


Breaking and Entering

by pantswarrior



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phoenix Wright Kink Meme, Robbery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantswarrior/pseuds/pantswarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phoenix walks in on a robbery, and wakes up on the floor with his hands bound behind him. As if that wasn't bad enough, it would just figure that Kristoph would be the one to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking and Entering

Whoever was moving around in the office proper, it wasn't Trucy. Phoenix had just returned home from seeing her off to school at the bus stop, and even if she'd managed to pull off another 'surprise' reappearance at home (he'd already had to go in and explain her tardiness twice in the past month), the footsteps sounded too heavy for an eleven-year-old girl. _Way_ too heavy. It kind of ruled out an unexpected visit from Maya too, unless she'd taken to wearing biker boots or something.

Phoenix wasn't terribly concerned, though, because there was one other person who had a key to the office, and they were supposed to meet for breakfast that morning. He must have just stopped in early so they could go together, Phoenix supposed as he turned the handle of the door leading from the reception area into the office. "Is that you, Kri-"

The blow to the head which cut him off did not, Phoenix thought dizzily, necessarily rule out Kristoph. Belatedly, he raised an arm to shield himself, his head reeling, but the first blow was followed by a punch to the face and a kick in the gut that sent him stumbling back against the half-open door, which flew further open from the force. ...No, _that_ wasn't Kristoph's style, he decided.

It was a little hard to make out, what with his head spinning, but his attacker seemed large, and had his face covered with a ski mask. Common burglar, Phoenix thought, but did that really matter at the moment? The thing that really mattered was the fact that he was sprawled on the floor, dazed from being hit over the head with something hard, and a guy who'd already hit him twice was lunging at him with the metal desk lamp.

The last, rather irreverent thought that passed through Phoenix's head before the next blow knocked him out was that _thank goodness_ at least both of Larry's 'Thinker' clocks were already in police custody. He'd had plenty of irony in his life already.

\---

Phoenix was really uncomfortable. Really, really uncomfortable. And he couldn't figure out why. Or why he was sleeping on the floor. Which, when he eventually managed to reconcile the two thoughts, _could_ be the reason he was uncomfortable. Or maybe it was the fact that his hands were tied awkwardly behind his back.

Yeah... that could have something to do with it.

Phoenix flexed his wrists, with exactly the results he'd expected: none. It was all starting to come back to him now, if slowly, filtered through an aching, vaguely nauseous head. Possibly he had a concussion. How long had he been out? It was kind of hard to focus his eyes on anything, not that he could make out a clock from where he was lying, or remember whether or not his inability to focus might be a sign he had a concussion. Well, Trucy had a half-day today - she'd be home to untie him at some point.

A couple minutes of lying face-down on the floor later, he realized just how terrible that thought was, and tried struggling against the twine on his wrists a little harder. No use - whoever had tied him had done a good job, and the twine was rough enough that it really hurt his wrists to move them. Dammit... he couldn't let Trucy find him like this. But it would be even worse to have her come home and find him in the same state, but bleeding from the wrists as well, he had to concede after more struggling left his skin raw. At least he hadn't heard anyone else moving around anywhere in the office, so it sounded like the burglar had left.

...Right, burglar. Phoenix tried rolling onto his side, towards the door which he'd been deposited next to, to get a look at the rest of the office. Books had been tossed off the bookshelves and had fallen off the desk... Trucy's props were a mess - but not really any more than usual. Piano was open. Picture on the wall was crooked. Phoenix couldn't see any more from where he was seated, but the papers strewn across the floor would indicate that someone had been in the file cabinets. More like someone was searching for something, rather than a basic robbery. Of course, Phoenix had to admit that at the Wright and Co. Talent Agency, you really _would_ have to search in order to find something worth stealing.

Come to think of it, there were indications _he'd_ been searched too; his jacket had been unzipped, his pants seemed to be unbuttoned and were on kind of crooked. His eyes widened in shock as he had a sudden thought, and flopped emphatically back onto his stomach, trying to toss the right side of his jacket onto the floor. Still seemed to be something heavy in the pocket, that was a good sign... and rolling over onto it, his bruised ribs were further abused by the small but hard object between the layers of fabric. Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief, rolling onto his side again into the center of the room, and didn't care _one bit_ about the double-edged comfort of _not_ feeling his wallet in his back pocket or his cell phone on his belt. Those could be replaced - and it wasn't like there was much in his wallet anyway. He'd never be able to face Maya, though, if he lost the magatama.

He was lying there, musing about how he'd have to call the credit card companies right away once he managed to get his hands free, when he heard the door from the hallway open. "Trucy?" he called, hesitant - but what else was he going to do? "Truce, something's happened, honey. I need you to come help me." With any luck, she'd think that he'd just tried to imitate some magical escape trick and botched it, at least until he was free and could explain it to her more delicately.

Except that the footsteps were, once again, too heavy and slow for Trucy. Phoenix froze - maybe he should have pretended to still be unconscious - but it was too late now, as the inner door swung open.

Kristoph peered down at him, adjusting his glasses as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "...Phoenix?"

"Kristoph..." Phoenix was relieved - it was Kristoph. But only for a second, because... well, it was Kristoph. They were still in this charade, though, Kristoph playing the caring, supportive lover taking care of a down-on-his-luck beloved; he wouldn't blow it by doing anything terrible now. Right? "I walked in on a robbery... he hit me on the head..."

"Oh dear..." Kristoph knelt down beside Phoenix, looking him over. More with curiosity than concern, Phoenix noted. "I'm relieved to know that I wasn't 'stood up' for our breakfast date, but this is hardly a pleasant explanation for your absence either."

Why was he just sitting there? Phoenix glanced back over his shoulder meaningfully. "My hands are tied..."

Kristoph peeked over him. "So I see."

That wasn't exactly the response Phoenix was hoping for. "Uhm, maybe you could do something about that?"

"Hmm..." Kristoph stood to step over Phoenix, to his back. Out of the corner of his eye, Phoenix could see him examining the knot. "That's a pretty good knot. It might take me some time to untie it."

"There's a pair of scissors in the desk," Phoenix pointed out. "Unless the robber took them for some reason."

"That seems unlikely."

Still, Kristoph made no move towards the desk. Phoenix's neck was getting stiff from straining it to look behind him at Kristoph, and finally he rolled mostly onto his back, letting his head fall back to look up at Kristoph warily. Why was he just sitting there, with that appraising look on his face? "Kristoph..."

Finally, Kristoph made a move - not to get up and find the scissors, but to take hold of Phoenix's shoulder, rolling him over onto his stomach again. Phoenix gasped as he felt Kristoph place one hand firmly in the center of his back, holding him down as he leaned over, until his breath was warm on Phoenix's ear. "To be honest," Kristoph murmured, "I find you quite... adorable, bound and helpless."

He could _not_ be serious. Phoenix groaned. "Kristoph, I'm not exactly in the mood right now."

"You've been through a lot today, haven't you?" Kristoph continued, and his breath on Phoenix's ear disappeared - only to be replaced with the weight of Kristoph straddling his knees. Phoenix groaned again, but not entirely in exasperation, as Kristoph tugged the back of his shirt and jacket up, exposing enough of his back to find the already-loosened waistband of his pants. Two fingers slid just barely inside, as if to pull them down. It wasn't like Phoenix could really _help_ feeling a tingle of anticipation at that touch, at the tone of Kristoph's voice, he admitted. "I think you deserve some comforting," Kristoph told him seriously.

"Maybe after I've been _untied_?" Phoenix said pointedly, twisting his head again to try to give Kristoph a firm look. He didn't want to anger the man - he knew already he was dangerous - but he couldn't possibly be expected to be okay with this.

"While I understand that you've just experienced something traumatic," Kristoph stated with a perfectly charming smile, starting to slide Phoenix's pants down past his hips, tugging them to his knees, "perhaps it would be best for you if we were to turn a frightening memory into something more _fun_."

"I was just _robbed_ , Kristoph," Phoenix reminded him. Though he couldn't deny that Kristoph's actions were causing him to react, just out of instinct. He was conditioned, by this time, to the feel of someone slowly undressing him... He shook his head, trying to clear it, and not having much luck. "I need to call the police..."

"Hmm..." Kristoph mused, and Phoenix exhaled as, after a moment, the fingertips removed themselves from his waistband. "You do have a point - a crime was committed, and must be reported."

"Yeah, the sooner the better." Phoenix was relieved when Kristoph started to get up - but not so much when Kristoph stood up entirely, and nonchalantly started for the office phone. "...Uhm..."

"Just lie there and relax," Kristoph suggested, and Phoenix heard three quiet beeps as he dialed 911. "I'll take care of this for you."

Phoenix rolled to his side again to stare at him in disbelief. "How exactly am I supposed to _relax_ when-"

"Good morning - I'm calling to report a burglary," Kristoph greeted the operator, ignoring him. "At the 'Wright and Co. Talent Agency'."

Phoenix sighed, letting his head drop to the floor - and wincing when it hit - as he listened to Kristoph describe the incident to the operator. "Oh, no - I'm not Mr. Wright," Kristoph clarified after a pause. "I'm calling on his behalf. He's just a bit tied up in the aftermath," he explained, looking down to Phoenix with a perfectly straight face.

"Ha, ha, ha," Phoenix grumbled. Making him all the more irritable was the fact that... well... Kristoph's suggestive words and touches had had a certain effect on him. That was really, really annoying, particularly when he couldn't do a thing about it until Kristoph finally took pity on him. Possibly he shouldn't have suggested calling for help first after all; now he was probably going to be stuck talking to the police for a few hours. But that wasn't anywhere near as annoying as the simple fact that Kristoph could still have that effect on him, even in a situation like this.

"Thank you," Kristoph was saying. "Have a wonderful day. ...Of course." He set the phone back in its cradle, and smiled down at Phoenix. "Someone should be here within half an hour, according to the nice young woman I just spoke with."

"Great," Phoenix muttered. "So _now_ will you-"

Kristoph was kneeling down beside him again before he could finish, cupping Phoenix's cheek in his hand. A cheek that was rapidly growing hot - this was humiliating. And oddly intriguing, which made it more humiliating. "You truly _are_ a picture like this," Kristoph murmured. "If you could see how lovely you look..."

"I'd rather not. Just-"

"And to think..." A sudden glint in Kristoph's eye - or was it just off his glasses? - made Phoenix freeze. "...I could do _anything_ to you that I wished, at this moment. So _helpless_ , and with just the two of us alone together..."

That was all too true, and Phoenix could think of some things that Kristoph might want to do to him in just such a situation. He decided it was time he shut his mouth.

The hand on his cheek stroked up to the top of his head, sliding under the edge of his hat and ruffling his hair lightly. "Good boy," Kristoph murmured. "Let me take care of you for a little while, my poor dear."

Not that Phoenix had much choice. He was completely at Kristoph's mercy at the moment, unable to do anything more than wince as Kristoph's fingers stroked down his temple, feeling oddly sticky. "Did you know," Kristoph inquired, "that you're bleeding? From here-" he touched just above Phoenix's ear, "and here-" he touched the corner of Phoenix's lower lip, which he hadn't realized until that moment was split and swollen. "It makes one think - how _fragile_ the human body is. How easily damaged..."

His fingertip was stained with red when he brought it away, and Kristoph lifted it to his own lips, his tongue flickering out for a taste. Phoenix stiffened - annoyingly, in more ways than one. Though he really didn't like this particular refocusing of Kristoph's attention, it was somehow fascinatingly erotic, watching Kristoph lick his blood off his finger. "...The police are on their way," he said firmly, reminding himself as well as Kristoph that there was _no time_ to do anything too terrible to him. Especially not when Kristoph had proven his presence at the scene by calling the police himself.

"You're correct," Kristoph admitted with a shrug. "Which means that we'd better do this quickly."

"...Do what quickly?" Phoenix was even more wary.

"Why, take care of _this_ , of course."

Phoenix should have expected that Kristoph's other hand was poised to reach out and wrap around his half-hard cock. He winced and closed his eyes, uncertain if he should be trying not to let Kristoph make things even worse, or to just let it happen, get it over with before the police arrived. Not that it was likely he could make himself _not_ feel Kristoph's fingers, stroking up and down his length, even if he tried to focus on ignoring it - and it didn't seem likely that he could stop Kristoph, with his hands tied behind his back and his pants at his knees. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a shaky huff, and he groaned. All right... so option one wasn't going to work. Just let it happen...

Kristoph had other ideas, however, and made a quiet 'tsk' sound as Phoenix gave in and tried to thrust against his hand. "Not so fast," Kristoph murmured, and Phoenix grunted painfully as Kristoph abruptly let go and tugged him onto his stomach again, making his chin rub roughly against the coarse carpet - not to mention more sensitive parts, which didn't at all appreciate that kind of friction. "I've barely gotten started yet," Kristoph told him, straightening to loom over him, and Phoenix groaned again as he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper. "I'm sure you'd want me to enjoy myself as well, wouldn't you?"

"We don't have time for this," Phoenix mumbled, not that he was particularly trying to make Kristoph listen. There wasn't a thing he could do except hope Kristoph would just get on with things.

He felt Kristoph's hand caress his hip, round the curve of his buttocks, then down his thigh. "Oh, that's right," Kristoph realized abruptly. "Your wallet's gone, isn't it?" Phoenix didn't respond - asking would only get him a mouthful of carpet, and did it really matter why Kristoph was suddenly interested in his wallet? "Fortunately, I've taken your example and come prepared," Kristoph added, and then Phoenix understood, hearing the quiet tearing sound behind him - he usually had a spare condom in his wallet. At least Kristoph wouldn't waste time looking for one. And now if he'd just hurry up, maybe they could both end this. Phoenix was sure _he_ wouldn't last long, at any rate.

Though he knew it was hopeless, Phoenix found himself struggling against the twine again, trying to free his hands as Kristoph settled forward and thrust into him. Kristoph was moving too slowly, he _needed_ to be touched, and there were _sirens_ approaching. He made a desperate, strangled sound as Kristoph showed no signs of either stopping or quickening his pace as the sound grew closer. "Kristoph, the police-"

"Are occupied with someone else," Kristoph informed him. "Your assailant has fled, you are alive, and you are in the care of a dear friend. The police are in no rush, and neither am I."

"Ahhn..." Phoenix's chin scraped across the carpet as his head tilted back. The sirens were close... and then they began to grow quieter, screaming past the building and off in some other direction. Regardless of whether or not the police or Kristoph were in a rush, he was already close, and this was going to go _so badly_. The police would show up to investigate and they would wonder what the fresh stain on the carpet was and the place was going to smell like cum and he wouldn't have a chance to clean up before Trucy got home and this was _so_ humiliating and why was thinking about this nearly pushing him over the edge?

But it was, and as he took a deep breath, his back arching beneath Kristoph, thoughts of dirty carpets were buried beneath layer upon layer of anticipation, the certainty of imminent relief...

Instead, he felt Kristoph's thrusts come to a halt. A finger stroked between his legs, searching, and pressed firmly.

Phoenix almost screamed, his frustration and need were so severe, but instead he just choked, writhing under Kristoph, trying to get away. "Not yet," Kristoph told him. "I'm not finished with you."

"Please..." Phoenix began, nearly babbling, not caring at all that he was practically eating the carpet. "Please Kristoph please _please_ Kristoph..."

"What a polite young man you are," Kristoph breathed, the other hand stroking Phoenix's cheek and throat before he settled back into place, resuming his rhythm while his finger remained in place.

"Stop it," Phoenix gasped. "Please..." Kristoph's answer was only to increase the pace, and though Phoenix was horrified, he heard himself actually _whimper_. It could be worse - he could be crying. He wasn't sure he wouldn't, if Kristoph kept this up much longer.

Perhaps fortunately, it seemed that his begging was turning Kristoph on all that much more; he wasn't talking anymore, and his breathing grew harsher as he neared his own orgasm. Phoenix was the one who cried out, when Kristoph thrust into him one last time, harder than before, and braced himself with his free hand as he caught his breath.

Finally - _finally_ \- the pressure between Phoenix's legs vanished, and Kristoph pulled out. "I suppose," Kristoph remarked, still slightly breathless, "that I had best clean up before the police arrive."

Phoenix moaned, turning his head to try to see if Kristoph was _really_ doing what it felt like he was doing, and he _was_. Kristoph was kneeling, removing the used condom, reaching for the box of tissues on the desk. Then he was tucking himself back into his underwear, standing up... " _Kristoph...!_ "

Kristoph knelt again briefly, patting him on the head. "I'll be right back," he assured Phoenix with a smile, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Now Phoenix _really_ felt like he was going to cry. He was face down on the floor (with no motivation whatsoever to move under the circumstances), hard as a rock, hands tied behind his back, and _alone_. The police were going to come, and find him like this, and he'd never been so humiliated in his entire life. It was even worse than if he'd gotten off, and for a moment Phoenix considered trying to finish the job himself... but with no hands, and in his current position, that didn't seem like a good idea. All he had to rub against was the carpet, and rug burn on his dick wouldn't exactly make his day any better.

All he could do was just lie there, listen to the water running in the bathroom, and think about how _amazing_ it was going to feel when he finally got Kristoph in court. If Kristoph didn't kill him first. Which Phoenix wouldn't have minded so much right now.

Kristoph's comment, when the bathroom door opened again, didn't help. "I do so enjoy seeing you in this position." Footsteps approached, and Phoenix didn't look up, even when he heard the sound of fabric on fabric that told him Kristoph was kneeling at his side. In fact, he turned his way. "Obedient, submissive... Like a sullen little puppy, who knows he's been bad," Kristoph remarked. "Though in this case, you've done nothing wrong at all. Which, to be honest, makes it all the more enjoyable."

Phoenix didn't dignify it with a response, and then he cringed, feeling a hand rest on his bare hip. "But you've had enough now, haven't you?" Kristoph murmured, and then Phoenix found himself pushed over onto his back. He was sure the expression on his face, full of anger and fear and self-loathing, was exactly the predictable response Kristoph was looking for as the other man smirked and ducked his head, nearly swallowing Phoenix whole.

Phoenix's frantic attempts to thrust up into that wet, sucking warmth would undoubtedly have choked Kristoph, if Kristoph hadn't had him completely under his control, holding him down with both hands. Phoenix's hands fought their bonds again, clenching with the desire to grab Kristoph's hair and pull him in closer still - and then, to his horror, he heard the faint sound of the door to the stairwell in the hallway closing, and the crackle of a two-way radio. "Kristoph!" he gasped.

Whether it was in response to his exclamation, or Kristoph had heard the sounds in the hallway as well, Kristoph took him all the way in abruptly, until Phoenix could feel his throat tightening around the head of his cock when Kristoph swallowed, and he clenched his teeth in hopes that he could keep himself from crying out again, because now there was a knock on the door, and he was _right there_.

Kristoph moved with his hips, swallowing as Phoenix came, then settling back on his knees as Phoenix lay panting on his side. Phoenix tried to pull himself together enough to find the words to get across that the police were _at the door_ , and he was still lying there with his hands tied and his pants down. Without even sparing a moment to catch his breath again, before even the aftershocks had completely ended, Phoenix found himself being shoved over onto his stomach again. "Kristoph," he gasped, trying to protest - he couldn't take any more of this...

And instead of what he'd been expecting, there was a quiet snapping sound, and the pressure on his wrists was released, the twine unwinding to release him. "I suggest," Kristoph said, and Phoenix looked back in time to see him slide a small pocket knife back into his jacket, "that you take a moment to clean yourself up. I believe the police have arrived."

Phoenix took a deep breath, and pushed himself up, nearly losing his balance when he tried to stand. There was no time to argue with Kristoph over what he'd just done - not if they didn't want the police involved - so he just did as Kristoph suggested, still wobbly and lightheaded and completely humiliated as he made his way towards the bathroom.

"He's here, yes," Phoenix heard Kristoph saying through the bathroom door, as Phoenix scrubbed the blood from his face and put his clothes back in order. "Just making himself look somewhat more presentable - he was in a bad state when I came in to find him. All tied up on the floor, and clearly he'd been physically assaulted."

In more than one way, Phoenix thought to himself irritably as the afterglow started to fade, leaving him merely groggy. He took one last look in the mirror, smoothed his hair back and pulled his hat on again before starting for the door.

The police were questioning Kristoph already, since he was available. "You mean, what brought me here to find him?" Kristoph clarified. "The two of us had made plans to breakfast together, but he never arrived. I found myself a bit concerned - ah, there you are," he greeted Phoenix as he emerged. "Forgive him if he's a bit disoriented - he _was_ struck in the head."

Oddly enough, after having had a look around, Phoenix couldn't report that very much had been stolen, even though the burglar had subdued him. His wallet and phone were gone, yes, but the computer and television were still intact, none of his old case files seemed to be missing... It seemed that the burglar had gone to an awful lot of trouble to take almost nothing. Even so, he didn't think it was particularly strange.

Not until an anonymous tip a few days later led the police to a vehicle parked at the edge of town, where they found his wallet and his phone nearly intact - next to a man who fit the general description of the burglar, who seemed to have shot himself in the head shortly after the robbery, according to the coroner's estimated time of death. Why he'd decided to burglarize the Wright agency before committing suicide was a mystery which would never be solved, the police commented when they came to return his belongings. Phoenix, on the other hand, had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

Particularly since there was exactly one thing missing from his wallet when the police returned it to him - and that was the ever-present spare condom.


End file.
